


Get Back Up

by eightiesking



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: 1970s, 70s, Colombia - Freeform, Guerrilla Warfare, Military, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:44:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8053303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eightiesking/pseuds/eightiesking
Summary: The first chapter!! Yay!!! If you want to learn more that's not this and see some great art by by Key's creator, Michael, check out @key4monroe on Instagram.And those for wondering, it is canon that Kaz was in Colombia at the time! (Link: http://metalgear.wikia.com/wiki/Kazuhira_Miller )- Cate





	1. Llegadas - Colombia, 1971

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter!! Yay!!! If you want to learn more that's not this and see some great art by by Key's creator, Michael, check out @key4monroe on Instagram.  
> And those for wondering, it is canon that Kaz was in Colombia at the time! (Link: http://metalgear.wikia.com/wiki/Kazuhira_Miller )  
> \- Cate

Her eyes stared at her boots, breaths shallow, fists clenched. The forearms of other large, male soldiers bumped Marilyn’s shoulders. The warm, night air mixed with the hot breaths of the other people. Irritation grew in her as the soldiers swayed and socialized within the crowd of soldiers. People pushed and shoved each other and laughter echoed through everyone. They chatted like they've known each other for years, which they probably did. She wondered if any of them knew her dad.

_ “Line up!” _

People scrambled to straighten into a line and shut up. People packed like sardines, shoulder-to-shoulder. From where she stood in line, she could see men and some women, ages ranging from teens to grandparents. She could tell people who joined the guerilla came from all walks of life.

The sound of a pair of boots clunked down the line. A blond man, the commander, started to survey his army. His appearance made him stick out from his dark soldiers. Aviator glasses covered his eyes but she could see light blue eyes glance behind them. His pale arms were slightly red from a day in Colombia. He shouted that his name was Kado Miller and to address him as Commander Miller. He shouted about what it took to be in this army and what they were fighting for, if they didn’t already know. Every army knows what they’re fighting for. His Spanish was inconsistent and she could tell that it wasn’t his first language. He threw past, present, and future tense out the window but they all could understand.

Marilyn let her mind wander, staring down at her boots. She heard this before. Her father would rant on and off of the battlefield. The speech, in a way, was painful to listen to. Her father’s voice is what caused this fire in her heart. Hearing it from a man who didn't mean it really, really sucked.

_ “Ahem.” _

Marilyn snapped her head up. Commander Miller stood in front of her, arms crossed. His clear eyes glared down on her. She could feel the eyes of every soldier down line on her. Her face felt like fire.

_ “Am I boring you, kid?” _ He spoke, his voice raised high enough for the whole file to hear.

_ “Oh no, sir,” _ she shook her head. She straightened her hunched back and held her hands behind her back, trying to look awake.

His stare didn’t fade,  _ “What’s your name?” _

_ “Marilyn Moreno Lee, sir.” _

He finally let go of his intense stare and produced a smirk.

_ “Grajales’ daughter, right?” _

_ “Yes, sir.” _

He chuckled,  _ “You’ve got big shoes to fill, Moreno.” _

She rolled her eyes slightly,  _ “I know, sir.” _

He turned, pointed, and yelled,  _ “We start training early tomorrow. Head to your sleeping quarters and I expect everyone on time. And no falling asleep. Now head out!” _

_ “Yes sir!”  _ Everyone replied and headed towards the quarters. People smacked Marilyn on the back as she walked. Miller was talking about her. She could sense the amount of shit she was going to get from him just because who her father was.

The sleeping quarters was only a long canopy with tons of bunk beds underneath; the sides exposed to the jungle biome. It was co-ed, men and women slept all under the shade. She weaved through the beds to find one unclaimed near the middle. A bag hung from one of the two hooks at the end, marking the top bunk taken. Dark legs dangled from above.

“ _ Excuse me _ ,” Marilyn blurted, “ _ Is it okay if I take the bottom bunk? _ ”

“ _ Go ahead _ ,” the legs spoke.

She thanked them and got no response. She sat on the hard wooden bed, tossing her bag on the ground and pulled out an old stained blanket and a small throw pillow from her bed back home. She’d might as well start sleeping now even though the sun just settled behind . She wanted to get up from training earlier than anyone else to really fill in those shoes.

* * *

 

Marilyn dozed in and out of sleep all night; she stared at the bunks nearby when she couldn't sleep. An item flashed in her peripheral vision. She shot up, looking where it happened. She rolled over on her stomach and looked on the concrete floor. A multi colored rosary lied in the dust. Marilyn was taken back to see such a spiritual symbol hit the ground. She looked up to the top bunk to see a dark, down-turned hand that matched the legs from that evening. She wanted to give it back but if she put it in their hand, they would drop it again.

She softly slid out of bed and picked up the rosary. She tip toed up the latter to her bunkmate. She couldn't see who they were: the arm that wasn't dangling covered their face. A backpack lied at their feet. If it was in there, it wouldn't get lost. She pulled it to the edge and zipped it open carefully.

Suddenly, her bunkmate shot up and swung their arms to their side. Their eyes stared intensely. Marilyn could tell he was a man but she didn't have time to think about it. He saw the rosary in her hand and her opening his bag.  _ “What are you doing?”  _

_     “Uh- um, you dropped it. I wanted to give it back,” _ she felt like a hummingbird was in her chest.

He stared intently at her. His eyes appeared clear with the reflection of the moon. She could feel her face getting hot. Marilyn looked away to the rosary. She stuck her arm out to him.

_ “I-I’m sorry.” _

    He snatched it out of her hand and flipped to his side, head hitting the pillow.

_ “Go to sleep.” _

_ “Okay,” _ her awkward answer echoed in her head while she rushed down to her bed and curled back into sleep.

* * *

 

The next morning, she was awaked by a kick to her bunk. Her eyelids slowly rose and she saw a man standing at the end of her bed. It was her bunkmate, fully clothed and hair damp. She lifted herself up and looked around. Most of the people were gone or rushing to put on their fatigues.

_ “I’d get up now or Miller’s going to give you more shit.” _

In the daylight, Marilyn could see him. He was most likely the same age as her. His dark, curly hair contrasted with his stunning light blue eyes that most full blooded Colombians lacked. She could've stared more but he turned and walked to training.

She pulled herself up and started to throw her clothes off her body and pulled her fatigue on in record time. She quickly tied her curly hair into a high bun and ran after her bunkmate. 

_ “Thank you so much for waking me up. What’s your name?” _

_ “Key.” _

_ “Key? Marilyn,”  _ She outstretched her hand, waiting for his.

_ “I know. Everyone knows.”  _ He didn't even look at her.

_ “I guess, but what kind of person would I if I just assumed?” _

Silence. Key was a quiet boy, never raising his voice even when his rosary was in Marilyn’s hand. Walking beside him, she noticed his striking blue eyes again. 

_ “Are you  _ mestizo _ too?”  _ She blurted.

_ “What?”  _ He said without turning his head.

_ “Mixed race? My mom is white and you know my dad. A proud Colombian. Are one of your parents white or something?” _

_ “No.” _

_ “Oh. But your eyes are blue?” _

He didn’t respond. Marilyn’s face felt hot again. They silently walked together until they reached a file the same size as the one yesterday. Commander Miller stood in front, hands behind his back, blonde hair slicked back. Her and Key went to one side and stood straight.

_ “I’m glad you showed up, Moreno,”  _ He shouted in his broken Spanish, a smirk creeping into place.

_ “Glad to be here, sir,”  _ she responded. Either he ignored her or didn’t even hear her because he started shouting instructions at everyone.

She could tell that she was going to have a great time in this army.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title Translation:  
> Llegadas ➡ the arrivals


	2. El Desgraciado - Outskirts of Bogotá, Colombia, 1963

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Key Backstory...

Key’s scraped knees stung against the chill night air. His toes gripped the edge of the concrete steps while his eyes wandered to the nearby capital. It seemed like fire erupted from Bogotá when the sun went down. He could stare and study for hours. All kinds of folk intermingled and greeted each other just the same. It was different  _ in _ the city then  _ out  _ of the city. 

_ “Key, m’ijo, come in please. It’s getting very dark.” _

Key turned quickly to see his sweet mother, draped in a snug blanket. He could tell she just finished her cigarette because the smoke disappeared from the air, leaving just their breaths.

He leapt to his feet and dashed into her arms. His weight knocked her back a little. While they embraced, she whispered,  _ “You're definitely growing, m’ijo.” _

He let go quickly and opened the door for her, smile beaming off his face.

_ “Thank you!” _ She smiled right back. 

When they entered the lobby area, Key was welcomed by many voices. The loudest was the group playing cards. Frida, Armello, Yessica, and Yenni, other workers at the brothel, dealt cards to each other and betted real money on the table. A yellow light glazed over them. Key sauntered over to say hi. Yenni wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled him closer. 

_ “Where’s my kiss, Angelo?” _ She tapped her right cheek and he pecked her aging face,  _ “You want to join in?” _

_ “Yenni, it’s past his bedtime!”  _ His mother scolded from behind.

_ “Mama Maria, please? I have some change I can bet!”  _ Key spoke with excitement in his voice.

_ “Angelo, no. You need sleep.” _

_ “Ah, boo, Maria. One day,”  _ Yenni poked him in the chest,  _ “You’ll be a big man and you can bet all day without your mama. Until then, do what she says.” _

_ “Okay, Yenni.”  _ Mama Maria grasped his hand and pulled him upstairs, ‘good night’s were exchanged as they ascended to the second floor. When they reached the hallway, Maria pulled down the attic hatch and they climbed up into Key’s room. The room was tiny but Maria did her best to make it cozy. She stacked blankets on top of pillows to make a warm nook near a small window. Candles sat on the window sill and a hair scarf took the appearance of drapes to cover the window at night. The only problem he had with it was that he could hear  _ everything _ .

Key squirmed into the nook and curled up with a quilt, pooling the heat under the blanket. Maria took her blanket off and laid it across him too. 

“Are you warm enough? Do you want a story?” She spoke softly. He nodded furiously and stared at her while she took a small book from under a pillow. She was so expressive when she told stories that even though Key was nine, he didn't want her to stop. Her free hand whipped around and tickled him at all the right moments in the story. Her dark eyes dashed around while her face lit up at the exciting parts. She would had been an amazing actress. 

Soon the story was over. Maria closed the book and put it back under the pillow. She leaned in close to Key and kissed him on the forehead.

_ “You're the Key to my heart, m’ijo. I love you.” _

_ “I love you too, Mama Maria. Good night.” _

_ “Good night Angelo.” _

And with that she crawled out of the hatch but not without blowing a kiss first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title Translation:  
> El Degraciado ➡ The Unfortunate


	3. La Niñita - Bogotá, Colombia, 1963

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marilyn Backstory...

“ _ Hija, it’s time for breakfast! _ ”

Marilyn jumped out of her bed and ran downstairs; her cat followed closely behind. Marilyn slipped into the kitchen. Her mom stood over the stove, mixing  _ Calentado _ . A strong, smokey scent filled the room and Marilyn's stomach rumbled. She sat in the chair across from her father; His nose was deep into  _ El Tiempo _ .

“ _ Buenos días, Hija. _ ” he greeted.

“¡ _ Buenos días papá! what’s going on in the news? _ ” 

He grunted. Marilyn knew not to push it. Her father has been very vocal about politics this year and anything will set him off into an affronted rage. And definitely before his coffee.

_ “How are you mama? Did you sleep well?” _ She beamed at her pretty, thin, white mother. Light auburn curls from the day before framed her small face. Marilyn looked so different than her mom.

_ “Hija, you know my back! It’s never a good night. How did you sleep?” _

_ “Fine. Osito woke me up once but he just wanted to got to the bathroom.” _

_ “He should be a damn outside cat,”  _ Her father spoke up, eyes still glued to  _ El Tiempo, “my armchair is ruined.” _

Marilyn's mom turned, balancing three plates in her arms. She placed them on the table in front of the two and one at an empty chair. They exchanged thank you’s and again when she brought out the drinks: a glass of  _ aguapanela  _ for Marilyn and coffee for the parents. The warm food filled her stomach as she scarfed it down and went for seconds.

_ “Oh, Marilyn! That’s not polite to shovel food down your throat. At least taste it first!” _ Her mom scolded.

“ _ Geneva _ ,” Papa smiled, more friendly after a few sips of his coffee, “ _ she’s growing! She needs some meat to attract a good man in a few years. Let her eat!”  _ He winked at her and continued to eat.

_ “Papá no!”  _ A pouty face appeared.

“ _ Ah, Papá yes. It’ll happen unless you get ugly but I don't see that happening.” _

_ “Yup. We made a cute girl.” _

They smirked at each other and Papa kissed Mama on the cheek.

“ _ Bluhhh!” _

_ “Just go feed your cat.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title Translation:  
> La Niñita ➡ the little girl


	4. El Entrenamiento - Colombia, 1971

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day of training and Marilyn's trying to show Kaz what she's made of.

The first day of training was fine. Marilyn did her best to impress Miller, showing that she was a perfect successor of her dad. She aced the endurance training which was helped by her years of running back and forth from her parents’ shop and home whenever they needed change or some peculiar item. A few miles jogging in the jungle, jumping over obstacles and staying on Miller’s heels was easy. When the endurance training was over, a rifle was shoved in her hands.

_ “Since you’re the first one to finish running, Moreno,” _ Miller said, plopping the gun in her palms,  _ “You get to be my demonstrator.” _

_ “Oh, uh, sir,” _ she stared at the powerful weapon, voice wavering,  _ “I’ve never have held a gun before, let alone shot one. I’m sure someone else would be more suited.” _

__ _ “Well, I can’t wait around for the rest to get here. We’re on a schedule. Now load that thing,”  _ he ordered, tossed a carton of ammo and went off to set up targets.

Marilyn sat on the dirt ground, confused and armed. Her father had the same gun under the counter at all times in case someone tried to rob them, but she never saw him touch it. She tried fumbling with it while the first heat of people from the run came back. Her back faced the opening of the jungle so she could only see the people emerge from the flyaways around her face. The sound of boots grew and made her panic. 

_ “Do you need help?” _

__ Key kneeled next to her, sweat beading down his forehead. His curls were moist with humidity and perspiration. She could see wispy hair on his chin but he had to be around her age. He still looked like a baby.

She handed him the gun,  _ “I don’t know how to load a gun or shoot one and Miller wants me to demonstrate in front of everyone?! He just wants to humiliate me.” _

__ By the time she was done talking, had loaded and held it out to her.

__ _ “Get up. We need to get over there.” _

__ Marilyn got up, wiped the dirt off her ass, and grabbed the rifle. Key started towards the shooting range and Marilyn followed after. 

__ Miller had set up his own gun by the time they got there. Marilyn stood next to him and watched the rest of the huffing and puffing army come in and create a group of socialization behind. Miller announced to pay attention and he demonstrated how to reload, hold and shoot the rifle they'd be using in battle. Marilyn payed close attention to what he was doing, trying to absorb as much she could.

__ _ “Now Moreno’s going to demonstrate. Show us what you know,”  _ he smirked at her.

__ _ ‘Jackshit’  _ she thought. She slowly started to repeat all of his steps. She raised the scope to her eye, hands shaking. She gripped it harder and aimed for the head. She pulled the trigger and braced for the recoil. The gun launched back a bit and twang was heard from the target. She looked to Miller and saw he was squinting to see where it hit.

__ _ “Right above the head, Moreno-” _

__ She groaned and rubbed her eye. 

__ _ “But not bad for your first time.” _

__ Marilyn was slightly surprised from the positive feedback. She smiled slightly, glad that he thought she did well. He hit her on the back,  _ “Now who's up next?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title Translation:  
> El Entrenamiento ➡ the training


	5. To Be Posted Later

To be posted later lol. All you need to know is that the army slowly stops listening to Kaz.


	6. El Favor - Colombia, 197X

Miller called Marilyn to his tent which pissed her off for two reasons. One, that this white guy gets a tent for just showing up and taking charge and two, that he needs to talk to her in the first place. His tent wasn't far from her group of bunks but she had to endure the mosquito bites she was going to get walking down the creek. She could see his shadow from the outside, hunched over a book. She decided not to barge in and instead shouted, “Commander, I’m here.”  
“Moreno? Come in,” he said with his usual forced accent.  
Marilyn used one hand to open the flap and ducked in. Miller sat on an olive drab cot, matching the army's fatigues. Everything seemed to be olive drab in the guerrillas. He had an worn and tattered notebook open on his lap but closed it when she entered  
“What did you need me for?” Marilyn crossed her arms.  
“Um,” Miller sat up straighter and pulled his champagne hair out of his face. His usual aviators were missing and restlessness showed under his out-of-place light eyes. A gas lantern hung in the middle of the tent, making Marilyn's skin a deep orange and Miller’s a warm yellow.  
“Just… Sit,” he commanded, gesturing to a empty place next to him. Marilyn hesitated. “I don't want to deal with whatever teen angst you have against me. Just sit.”  
She sat, remembering how tall he actually was.  
“So, I think you've been right about a lot of things lately.”  
“Oh,” Marilyn responded, feeling elated, “how is that?”  
“They just won't listen to me anymore.”  
“Well, I mean, a foreigner that hasn't lived in Colombia for more than two years and doesn't have any background is a little off-putting, isn't it?”  
“Will you stop giving me shit? And it's not like you're a full blooded Colombian! Your mom is from the states!”  
“But I’ve lived here my whole life! I grew with these beliefs! My father is the reason most of these men are fighting! I have more credibility in my finger than you have in your whole body!”  
“That's why I need your help.”  
“No! Why should I? You haven’t shown me any reason to-” Marilyn started to get up but he grabbed her forearm.  
“You and I are more alike than you think!” His eyes seemed desperate at this point.  
“Fine,” she yanked her arm away and crossed them, “Tell me.”  
“We're both mixed race.”  
“You're mixed race?” Marilyn looked at him with skepticism.  
“My dad was in Japan for awhile during World War II. My mom was a prostitute but they fell in love. He had to return to the US and left her and me there in our little cigarette shop.”  
Marilyn stared at him. She was raised working in her dad’s convenience store as well but she wasn't going to bring that up to help his case, “How did you even get here?”  
“I wanted to visit my dad so I went to America. Apparently I went at the wrong time because my half-brother died and then he killed himself. So I just went south. I got here and the war sounded good.”  
“War sounded good?”  
He shrugged, “I didn’t have anywhere else to got.”  
She bit the inside of his cheek, not willing to cave now.  
“So?” She said, arms crossed.  
“So I know what not belonging feels like. I know trying to find a side. I know trying to learn both languages and trying to form to one side.”  
She slightly cocked her head, “Do you know English?”  
“Better than Spanish,” he smirked, replying in English.  
She stared, their eyes meeting again, “My mom taught me.”  
“I had a neighbor.”  
She sighed, “I’ll do it,” his face brightened, “But only if you stop giving me shit as well and you’ll stop embarrassing me.”  
“I won't I promise. Thank you so much, this army’s going to be better with we’re all on the same page,” he reached out to touch her shoulder but she stood up before she could.  
“I just want something for all this ass kissing I’m about to do.”  
He smirked, “Something and be arranged.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title Translation:  
> I think you got this one lol


	7. Noche de Póker - Colombia, 1972

Few weeks later…

The soldiers rejoiced for the New Year. People drank and smoked. It was impossible to hang out with others without their lungs being filled with tobacco or marijuana smoke. A small group played poker, betting coins and change. Key played dealer and shuffled battered cards to the players. A cigar hung in his mouth as he dished them out.  
“I wanna see a fair game,” Key spoke through the cigar, looking at a sly looking Francisco across the table.  
Marilyn sat behind his right arm. Slightly tipsy, she laid her head on his shoulder, giggling at anything. Her hair was out of its bun and flowed wildly, mostly in her face. The small, yellow bulb above the table made all of them turn orange.  
Key’s hands dashed quickly as he made piles in front of the players including Francisco, two other men, and an older woman. They play, they bet.  
A light hand tapped the cheater Francisco out and took his spot. Miller took his spot without refusal. He sat, his pale arms turned yellow on the table. For once his aviators didn't cover his eyes and they could see how clear they actually were.  
“I heard we have a good dealer,” he smirked.  
Key reached to an ashtray beside him and flicked out the ashes. He started to deal a new hand for the new player, “Who’d did you hear that from?”  
“Those poor men drinking over there,” he nudged his head to a group of men behind, “you robbed them blind.”  
“That's how the game's played,” Key shrugged, Marilyn’s head slid off and she snapped up, “And I don't get the money.”  
“Of course, yeah, you don't,” Kaz scooped up his hand, “Did you do this as a kid?”  
“Yup.”  
Marilyn spoke up, “As a kid? Like with betting and stuff? Who taught you?”  
“My…” Key drifted off for a second, like he was trying to find the right word, “Aunt Yenni taught me.”  
“I guess she taught you well.”  
“So Kaz, are you gonna lose all your money too?” Marilyn asked with a large smile.  
“God I hope not. But I might not have a choice.”  
Key snuck a smile in, proud of himself. They played a few hands and Marilyn couldn't tear her eyes from Kaz. He looked different this night and she didn't know if it was the alcohol was talking. She wanted to do something crazy and irrational.  
“Kaz, I gotta ask you something,” she grabbed his arm and pulled him out of his seat, “Come on!”  
He laughed but was still a little confused, “Alright, give me a second.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title Translation:  
> Noche de Póker ➡ Poker Night


	8. El Pesar - Colombia, 1972

Marilyn grabbed Kaz’s hand and led him away from the party to his tent, wobbling a bit on the way. He kept asking why she needed him and what she wanted. She played a guessing game with him filled with drunken giggles and smiles. When she got there, she opened the tent flap for him and let him in first.  
“Thank you, my lady.”  
“No problem, señor,” she giggled again.  
“So what did you need?” He turned on the gas lamp and sat on the cot, slicking stray hairs back into place.  
“Oh, well,” she played with the top of her own hair a bit, “I remember you saying that you’ll pay me back if I kissed your ass a bit so the army would listen again. And guess what I did?”  
“Just that?”  
She smiled and nodded, sitting close next to him.  
“I can't thank you enough but I do remember that promise,” He straightened up a bit and asked, “What do you want?”  
Marilyn’s forehead crinkled a bit with a hesitant laugh. Was he that clueless? She stared into his baby blue eyes with her emerald ones, a thing that they seemed to do a lot but this time, Marilyn’s heart fluttered with lust and alcohol. When his face slightly morphed into confusion, she reached for the sides of his face and pulled it into hers, kissing him. It was toxic, mixing tequila and cigar smoke. Almost instantly, he pushed her shoulders away and stared, breathing increased.  
“What was that?” He exclaimed, looking around to see if anyone saw but he wouldn't be able to tell anyways.  
Marilyn gulped, stomach flip-flopping and pride and vomit sat at the top of her throat.  
“I-I… don't know,” she quieted, tears started to well in her eyes.  
“Marilyn, don't cry. It's fine,” Kaz showed sympathy and lied a hand on her shoulder which hurt more than a gunshot. She shot up and started out the tent, “I’m sorry, Kaz.”  
“Marilyn…”  
Marilyn sulked to the bunks, mortified. Self loathing thoughts ran through her head. It was her fault. She shouldn't have came onto him. She was an idiot for thinking Kaz would reciprocate any kind of feelings, loving or lusting. On her way, she could see the party and she could see Key, who looked like he was watching out for her return. When she kept walking past, he ran after her.  
“Marilyn! What did you talk to Miller about?” He said, following behind.  
“Don't worry about it,” she said bluntly, refusing to face him.  
“Mari?”  
“I said don't worry about it.”  
He grabbed her by her shoulder and spun her around, revealing her tear stained face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title Translation:  
> El Pesar ➡ Regret


End file.
